Of Sex and Concepts
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Sherlock likes the idea of it more than he likes the act of it. .:. Johnlock drabble plus oneshot. appreciative-bottom!Sherlock. my sexual Johnlock headcanon.
1. sex headcanon: Sherlock

Sherlock likes the idea of it more than he likes the act of it.

He isn't much one for physical attachments or pleasure, only stimulation of the mind. So when it comes down to it, Sherlock doesn't pay much attention to what goes on while it happens. Sure, he makes all the right noises and touches, but it's just so John does it again in the future, isn't put off by how Sherlock would normally behave during it.

Because, if left to be himself, Sherlock would simply watch John. He would stare and hold on and absorb the sounds John makes instead of participating much in the act itself. But that might give John the wrong idea – Sherlock knows how he thinks – so he opts instead to play his role and do what others have done as he's seen in his video research of the act.

The act is, if you couldn't tell already, sex. Sex with John, to be precise. And yes, the videos were pornography, but honestly, they did nothing for Sherlock but give him pointers, like how you might watch a cooking show on the telly.

So yes, the idea of sex is more appealing to Sherlock than the sex itself. Because while there is pleasure to behold, Sherlock ignores most of it in favor of observing John. The true pleasure, he has found, comes from the idea, the meaning behind the sex, and from John himself.

Because watching John is all Sherlock needs in order to reach his climax. He hardly needs the rest of it. John's movements and breaths and sounds and words are enough.

And then there is, of course, the concept of sex, and what it means.

The idea is highly intriguing. Sherlock likes it best of all because it gives him so much to think on, to work with.

The idea of sex with John is this: they become One through an act. John fits into Sherlock like a puzzle piece and they _merge. _John fills Sherlock to the brim, completes Sherlock, becomes the piece Sherlock was missing previously. John gives Sherlock his heart, gives Sherlock a heart to have and hold and protect. In moving smoothly in and out, John forms a bond that cannot be broken between them now that the act has been done. It makes them something new, something different, something unique to them and working solely for their own dynamic.

And it's those thoughts that give Sherlock true pleasure, more than the sex, because he likes the idea of John making him whole, of John being inside him, part of him, a missing piece put back in its place every time they have sex, even without penetration, because it is a moment when they are bonded. He likes that John completes him heart and soul. He loves it, even. He knows he will never have it with anyone else ever again.

So that's it, then. That's why Sherlock even has sex, even partakes in such a plainly human event: because of the implications to go with it, the passion and love. He likes those things, and wouldn't trade them for the world.


	2. sex headcanon: John

Oh, John is well aware how minimally Sherlock has interest in their love life.

At first, he was just grateful that Sherlock was letting him in. Sherlock is like a human fortress, all thick, large, heavy white bricks with chaotic patterns that somehow hold fast to create one of the strongest buildings known. He has walls that back up his walls, and he rarely lets himself be vulnerable to sunshine, let alone invasion.

But he let John in. And that meant something. Because Sherlock doesn't have to permit anyone behind his walls, not a soul. And yet John was allowed to see Sherlock's emotions, his naked body, his vulnerability. He opened himself up to John and took him into his arms. And John was content to be there, to have Sherlock, to keep him.

But he soon caught on to the pattern.

John is always the one to initiate contact. Always the first to kiss, to touch, to shed clothing, to strip Sherlock of his. Sherlock has always ignored personal space, but he never goes further than hovering. So John always makes the first move.

And when they go to bed (or sofa, or kitchen table, or armchair, or shower, or wall; it varies), Sherlock always seems to let John do whatever he pleases to him. He never protests, never takes control. He participates just enough, John has observed, to seem like he enjoys it. But it's quite literally _just enough, _and after months of having sex about twice a week with this pattern in mind, John finally has to ask.

"Sherlock, do you like having sex with me? At all?" John wants to know, and he is very, very calm and seems more curious than offended, his brows lax, and that's the only reason why, John thinks, Sherlock answers him honestly.

"Yes. I wouldn't partake in the act if I didn't," Sherlock says.

And for a while, that answer is enough.

But one night, John has to make sure. He has to. So amidst their foreplay (which is, generally, a lot of snogging), John breaks a rather passionate kiss and requests lowly, "I want you to top tonight."

And yes, unfortunately, there it is: Sherlock's evident tension and hesitation. "Me?" he says.

John nods. "Yes, you. I'm sure it'll be brilliant, like everything you do."

"But I…" and Sherlock grows quiet, and that is never a good sign.

John sighs and sits up. "There, I knew it," he says, and there is no hurt in his voice, only confirmation. "Sex doesn't really appeal to you, does it? Not like it does to most everyone else. You have no…" He searches for the right words. "No _hunger _for it, no lust. But you still do it. Why? Just because I want it?"

"Partially," Sherlock confesses. "I can't lie, John, not when you have pieced it together. I feared you might; you are, after all, mildly intelligent."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment," John murmurs. He sighs, adjusts his hips, and touches Sherlock's cheek. "Now tell me, Sherlock: why do you let me do this to you if there isn't much in it for you?"

"My body can be stimulated like anyone else's, because anatomy is anatomy," Sherlock relays softly, "But you are correct, John: I don't possess a 'hunger' for intercourse like the general population does. But that doesn't mean I don't want to have it with you. I enjoy more the closeness than the physical pleasure; I like the bond it brings, the raw emotions that comes out in you especially bright when you make love to me, and the way you fit inside me like a puzzle I know fits together but still can't see the image it makes when it does. It is… pleasurable in thought, sex with you. I enjoy the meaning and intrigue of it, and that is why I never wanted you to think I didn't like it."

John smiles and glances down, feeling the tendons in Sherlock's hand pressed into the mattress beneath them. "I figured as much. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going through the motions or pulling away from me. But from now on, don't fake anything, okay? If you don't feel like making a noise or touching me, then don't. I'll carry on as I please, if you don't mind, but I want whatever happens to be genuine. Okay?"

"I can do that," Sherlock murmurs, and he turns his hand over to pick up John's and return it to his face. "But I must warn you, I will be doing a great deal of silent observing, then. I like to watch you more than anything else. Each movement and intake of breath and sound is fascinating."

John smiles and pressing his face into Sherlock's chest. "Is that why you close your eyes so much? To seem natural and to keep yourself from staring too intently?"

"Yes," Sherlock says, and he closes his eyes now, feels John's warmth against him where he's sitting on his own calves, settled between John's bent legs. "I could orgasm just by watching you. There is so much to ponder, to observe, when it comes to you, but never more so than during sex."

"Hmm, I'll keep that in mind. In fact, we can use that to our advantage; we haven't tried a certain position yet, and I think you'll like it, because then you can stare down at me the entire time, but I can still be inside you like you like," John suggests huskily, and it sends a pleasant shiver down Sherlock's core.

"I know precisely what you're referring to, and I can't help but thank you for being so understanding, John," Sherlock smirks, and he slinks upward and goes about preparing himself – it never takes very long – and lowering himself onto John slowly, until there is that wonderful feeling of being complete taking over Sherlock, and he sighs contentedly.

And he's able to watch John's every emotion, his hands on John's chest as he rides him, feeling every twitch of muscle and heartbeat, and he doesn't have to mask his face with cliché sex-expressions anymore as he takes in everything that is laid out in front of him, under him; everything that is purely _John, _and he thinks, briefly, how no one will ever get to have this because no one will get to have John the way Sherlock has him.

The magic of coincidence rears its head, too, when they finish and lie panting together, because John rolls onto his side and peers over at Sherlock and says rather possessively, "No one is as lucky as me, are they? No one will ever get to have you the way I do."

And Sherlock just smiles, and for once, he initiates the lovingly slow, post-sex kiss.


End file.
